Change to Subject
by LilyPotter
Summary: Sequel to Subject to Change. Voldemort rises again, theres only one person who can stop him. But Gryffindors heir is a sixteen year old boy with no training as an auror. Only the parents can train one so young. This boy's parents are dead Can they change
1. Default Chapter

Title: Change to Subject   
  


Author: Lily Potter   
  


A/N: Thank you so much to my new beta :) Smile7499.   
  


Who needs a dream?   
Who needs ambition?   
Who'd be the fool   
In my position?   
Once I had dreams   
Now they're obsessions   
Hopes became needs   
Lovers possessions   
  


_Then they move in   
Oh so discreetly   
Slowly at first   
Smiling too sweetly   
I opened doors   
They walked right through them   
Called me their friend   
I hardly knew them   
  
_

_Now I'm where I want to be and who I want to be and doing what I   
always said I would and yet I feel I haven't won at all   
Running for my life and never looking back in case there's   
someone right behind to shoot me down and say he always knew I'd fall.   
  
_

_When the crazy wheel slows down   
Where will I be? Back where I started.   
  
_

_Don't get me wrong   
I'm not complaining   
Times have been good   
Fast, entertaining   
But what's the point   
If I'm concealing   
Not only love   
All other feeling.   
  
_

_Now I'm where I want to be and who I want to be and doing what I   
always said I would and yet I feel I haven't won at all   
Running for my life and never looking back in case there's   
someone right behind to shoot me down and say he always knew I'd fall   
~Chess   
  
_

_~**~_

It was hot. So very hot that Hermione thought she would die. One should not die of heat, when one is a half trained mage that could fix the weather in a snap. But a certain red haired full trained mage had threatened to throw her into a loo for a couple of days if anything got out of hand. So it stayed hot. Hermione absentmindedly played with her mother's wedding rings, which she wore on a chain, and privately cursed her parents for not having air conditioning, and cursed Harry's parents for not letting her fix that minor detail.   
  


So she sat on a box in her beastly hot attic, and stared at the mounds of boxes and bags that contained all of her possessions, and those of her parents. Each box full of memories of her parents. Memories that she didn't want to see, even though they had died six months ago. And died again a few days later. Guilt was like memories, it seemed that the ones that were least wanted were the ones that never seemed to go away.   
  
  


Well, the material memories would be gone soon. They would charmed so that the boxes would become very small, and they would be stowed away in a corner of Lily and James' attic, and she'd never have to see them ever again. Just like she would never see this house again. Not if she could help it. Some poor defenseless muggle had bought it, with no idea as to why the owners had died, or how close the world was to ending.   
  
Hermione shook herself. The world wasn't about to end. Not while Harry was around. She knew she sounded stupid when she thought it, and smiled wryly at the irony of it all. Everybody's hopes, and even lives, depended on one almost sixteen-year-old boy. It was ludicrous. Too bad it was true. Too bad he wasn't really talking to her, either.   
  
The aforementioned saviour of the world walked into the room, hit his head on the low ceiling, and fell sprawling over a large trunk.   
  
"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly, picked up his glasses off the floor, and tried to straighten the robes that were now far too many inches off the ground. Hermione grinned to herself. That was the third time today. Was he actually going to say anything else besides that?   
  


"Are you finished yet?" A whole sentence. He must be feeling extremely talkative today.   
  
"Yeah," said Hermione. "I wish I could take all this stuff and burn it."   
  
"You won't want to, later," said Harry seriously. He suddenly grinned. "Besides, my Mum will lock you in a toilet for a couple of days if you do. And if you're really lucky, you could get Malfoy in there too."   
  
"I don't know if Malfoy could stand it," said Hermione. "He's quite unbalanced enough as it is."   
  
"I don't know if it's just him," said Harry. "I'm beginning to believe we all are." He picked up the nearest box, hit his head again, and cheerfully cursed his way down the flight of stairs.   
  
"Yeah," said Hermione, "Maybe we are."   
  
~**~   
  
"You know Harry," said Ron conversationally as he moved another box into the living room. "I don't understand you at all."   
  
"What?" said Harry distractedly, as he put his box on top of Ron's. "What are you talking about?"   
  
"You finally get up the courage to write this long sappy love note to Hermione, she saves your life, everything is happy and incredibly annoying, and right afterwards, you start avoiding her like she's some rare breed of blast ended skrewt."   
  
"Blast ended skrewts are rare breeds," said Harry. "Hagrid made them up. You pretty much can't get any rarer than that."   
  
"You are avoiding the question," said Ron. "Why are you avoiding her?"   
  
"I'm not."   
  
"Yes you are. Every time she walks into a room, you walk out of it. You keep your conversations to a bare minimum, and when you do talk, you always joke around, and never say anything serious."   
  
"You're one to talk," said Harry.   
  
"Yes, but I was like this all the time, and you just started," said Ron. "You should be finding corners to passionately snog in, not finding corners to hide from her."   
  
"Ron, just shut it, alright?" said Harry irritably. "It isn't like that at all."   
  
"How stupid do you think I am?" asked Ron. "Was it because she saved your life and now you're embarrassed?"   
  
"Hermione has saved my life loads of times," said Harry. "It's not that."   
  
"Are you embarrassed because of the long sappy love note?"   
  
"I didn't mean to write that," said Harry. "I thought I was going to die. People do stupid things when they think they're going to die."   
  
"Like going out to fight Voldemort?" said Ron.   
  
"No," said Harry angrily, "people do stupid things like annoying other people with stupid questions." And he stormed off to find another box.   
  
"Does this mean I think I'm going to die?" asked Ron.   
  
~**~   
  
_It was the same dream, the same time, and the same place. They were all behind that magical barrier, with Harry looking defeated and worn. There was a slight sound of scuffling behind them. Several men in hooded cloaks passed them, and headed over to where Voldemort was. Voldemort directed them over to the magical barrier and turned to Harry, sadistically smiling.   
  
"More of your friends, I believe?" he inquired. Ron inwardly groaned. There were Sirius and Professor Lupin and…Draco Malfoy. Ron supposed he should have been shocked but he wasn't. He knew perfectly well why Draco was there. It was more of a shock to see Lily and James Potter.   
  
"Dear, dear, Lucius," said Voldemort, now shaking his head and glancing in Draco's direction. "This one was supposed to be one of mine. Your son, I believe?"   
  
"I have no son," said Lucius coldly. "My son is dead."   
  
"Well put, father," said Draco as obnoxiously as possible. "Perhaps now we can all join a talk show. You can talk about how I never joined a bunch of murdering freak shows, and I'll talk about the various times you tried to kill me, and eventually decided that I just didn't exist. Better yet, it could be a Victorian drama. Lots of gnashing of teeth and screaming, 'never darken my doorway again!' We'd make loads. Not that we need it, of course, do we? Not after we sold off all of our dear friend Voldie's school supplies which we kept inconspicuously under the floor boards."   
  
"This is true, Lucius?" asked Voldemort, a frown beginning on his face, which was a temporary relief from his sadistic grin. "After I expressly told you not to?"   
  
"My lord, I…"   
  
"Silence!" Voldemort glared at him. "I will deal with you later."   
  
"Enjoy yourself, father," said Draco, outdoing himself in obnoxiousness. "I've heard that the cruciatus curse is very painful. Actually, I haven't heard, I know. How many times was it? Oh I don't know…twenty billion mayb-"   
  
"I will deal with you as well," said Voldemort. "And you will come out considerably worse than you father. Now, I believe Harry has a decision to make."   
_  
~**~   
  
"Ron? OY! Ron!"   
  
"Eh?" Ron sat up. Ugh, he had a horribly stiff neck.   
  
"Sleeping on the job, are you?" said Harry, grinning down at him. "Hey, are you ok?"   
  
"Yeah, fine," said Ron.   
  
"You look really white," said Harry. "Anyway, I'm sorry about all those snarky comments I made. It's just really hot out."   
  
"I know," said Ron. Why did it all of a sudden seem so cold?   
  
~**~   
  
A/N: Finally. I thought that I'd never get that done. :)   
  
  
~*~  
~smile 


	2. Of Flames

A/N: I apologise that this has taken me so long, and I'm afraid that chapter   
three will take even longer. My schedule will be a bit full for the next few   
months-a trip to Quebec, two leads in two different shows, tech week for a   
third show, chorus rehearsals/concerts, and somewhere in all of that muddle   
I have to find time to eat, sleep, and study for exams. Depending on how   
things go, I may have to postpone this story until April.  
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. Nothing belongs to me,   
except for the plot.  
  
_There are preachers who kill!  
There are killers who preach!  
There are teachers who lie!  
There are liars who teach!  
Take yer pick, dear-  
'Cause it's all a Facade.  
  
If we're not one but two,  
Are we evil, or good?  
Do we walk the find line-  
That we'd cross if we could?  
Are we waiting-  
To break through the Facade?  
  
~Jekyll and Hyde._ Frank Wildhorn.  
  
~**~  
  
"I gotta go home now, Harry," said Ron. "Mum'll worry if I'm not back   
soon."  
  
"You aren't coming up to the house with us?" said Harry, feeling very   
desperate, and knowing that he was being very stupid. If Ron didn't come   
home with him, he'd be stuck walking several miles alone with Hermione. And   
you couldn't avoid a conversation with a person for a half hour. On the   
other hand, if Ron did walk home with them, there would be a chance that he   
would see Lily and James, and then the entire world would probably come   
crashing about his ears.  
  
Ron looked at Harry as if he knew just how stupid he was for suggesting it.  
  
"You are going to have to talk to her _sometime_, you know," he said   
irritably. "It might as well be now."  
  
"I can't," said Harry, feeling very childish. "I just can't…"  
  
"Can't do what?" asked Hermione, bringing the last of the boxes down from   
the attic.  
  
"Stay for dinner," said Ron, glaring at Harry. "He says he has to study."  
  
"Well he does," said Hermione. "You may be on holiday now, but we still   
have exams."  
  
"At least you don't have to deal with Malfoy yet," said Ron.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry. "But we'll have to, soon enough. It's not like he could   
drop his courses in the middle of last year to come study with us. And it's   
not like he can suddenly leave his house to come study over holidays either.   
He'll just have to catch up when Hogwarts opens again."  
  
"Whatever," said Ron. "Listen, I really have to go."  
  
"Right," said Harry, looking resigned. "So do we."  
  
"You know Harry," said Hermione, as they watched Ron turn and walk away.   
"It's not like you to be so conscientious about school work and all that.   
Don't you want to see the Weasley's?"  
  
"I have a splitting headache," said Harry, lying through his teeth.  
  
"Well, that's easy enough to fix," said Hermione briskly. "I'll just…"  
  
"What's that?" said Harry, desperate to distract her. Hermione frowned in   
the direction of Harry's point.  
  
"Dunno," she said, squinting at it. "Looks a bit like a door."  
  
"Don't you think it's a bit odd to have a door in the middle of a hill?"   
asked Harry.   
  
"Maybe they _like_ living in hills," said Hermione. "I don't know. Or maybe   
it's the door leading out of the basement. There is a house on top of it,   
you know."  
  
"Don't you think it's strange that…" Harry trailed off, as the house burst   
into flames.  
  
Harry ran to the house. It was already a fiery inferno-there was really no   
hope for it at all. But one could hear the screams coming from the house.   
Harry tried the door, and when that didn't work, pulled out his wand to   
blast it open instead. But the door burst into flames as well, and in less   
than a minute, the house had burned to the ground.  
  
It had to be an enchanted fire, there was really no other explanation for   
it, Hermione thought numbly, as Harry slowly walked away from the remains of   
the house. Nothing could have lit up an entire house like that, and then   
gone out so fast, if it hadn't been enchanted. Nothing could have helped it   
at all. Those people inside…  
  
Harry tripped over something. He picked it up…and sat down on the ground,   
looking at it. Hermione walked over to him. He held up the object to her.  
  
It was a doll. A cloth doll, obviously made by hand, with black yarn hair   
and a painted-on face. The face was beginning to wear off, as if the doll   
had been held, and played with, and accidentally dropped outside the house.  
  
"There was a little girl inside that house," said Harry, looking numbly at   
the doll. "Maybe more children. Kids, Hermione. He killed them. There were   
kids inside that house, and he murdered them without a second thought."  
  
"Harry, you're babbling," said Hermione shakily. "What are you talking   
about? Who killed them?"  
  
"Didn't you notice the colour of the fire?" said Harry quietly. "It wasn't   
orange, or yellow, or a little blue, like normal fire is supposed to be. It   
was red."  
  
"I really didn't notice," said Hermione. "I mean, I knew it had to be an   
enchanted fire, because it burned the house to the ground so fast and   
everything, but the colour really shouldn't matter, I mean, after all, you   
walked through purple fire in First year, enchanted fire is really any   
colour…"  
  
"Except red," said Harry. "Now who's babbling? Magical fires can't be red.   
Haven't you read anything at all this year on Hell? The only flames at all   
that can be red come from Hell."  
  
Hermione bristled slightly. "Well, of course I knew that."  
  
"Well, here's something you didn't know. Voldemort always used Hell's   
flames to burn down houses. That's why you can't find the Potter mansion. Or   
my parent's bodies. They have gravestones, but they're empty graves. D'you   
know why? Because Voldemort burned houses exactly fifteen minutes after he   
left them. His confederates did too."  
  
"But he couldn't have burned your house," said Hermione. "He was   
practically dead."  
  
"I don't know what he did," Harry snapped. "I guess it was when he walked   
out the door or something, and it happened automatically. I dunno. But   
that's what happened. That's why Sirius got me out of the house so fast. He   
knew I'd be in flames pretty soon if he stayed in there a minute longer."  
  
"So what does this have to do with anything?"  
  
"I dunno. But the flames were bloody red in colour."  
  
"Harry…Voldemort could be here still," said Hermione. "This could be a   
trap…"  
  
"Because he knew I would try and save that family?" said Harry. "He was   
bloody well right. And he can come out any time he wants to. HEY! VOLDEMORT!   
I'M HERE! I COULDN'T SAVE THEM! COME GET ME!"  
  
Hermione slapped him. "Shut up!" she hissed. "You have to be the stupidest   
person in the history of the world. Do you really want to die?"  
  
"Uh…no," said Harry, looking slightly fazed from the slap.  
  
"Come on, Harry," said Hermione. "Let's go home."  
  
"What about them?" he asked, suddenly pointing the pile of cinders, where   
the house used to be.  
  
"We'll tell your parents," said Hermione. "They'll know what to do."  
  
"Voldemort isn't here," said Harry suddenly. "My scar would hurt. It's one   
of those things, you know? Like when he killed your parents, and Cho, and   
Cedric…let's all hail the mighty powerful Voldemort, because he can kill   
people at will."  
  
"Don't make me slap you again," said Hermione tiredly. "I normally like to   
reserve things like that for Malfoy. Lets just get home."  
  
"Right," said Harry. "Home."  
  
Neither noticed, as they walked away, the door that had been in question,   
before the flames, was completely unharmed. And neither noticed that a   
person came out of that door, and snickered slightly, as they disappeared   
from view.   
  
~**~  
  
A/N: That was a slightly cryptic ending, wasn't it? Ah well. I'm sorry that   
this chapter was not very well written, and very short, but like I said, I   
haven't much time, and I just wanted to get it done. Just hang in there   
until I can get some more time. :)


End file.
